


Come back to me, I need you

by TooManyChoices



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Implied Mystrade, Introspection, John is shot, M/M, but he doesn't die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is shot on a case. Sherlock's POV with a heavy dose of introspection. Vague JohnLock if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come back to me, I need you

_Please wake up John......I can't do this alone_

Sherlock sat at the hospital bedside; head drooping, curls hanging limp around his bowed head.

"How long since he's slept?" Lestrade stood vigil beside Mycroft in the corridor.

"Three days. Greg, I think if we lose John, my brother will not be long in following." The tense sadness was strange in Mycroft's clipped syllables. The long vigil had stripped them all of pretence. The last of their energy had been sapped in wasted tears, there was nothing left for lies.

"You've tried...."

"He won't leave Greg, not even to catch a couple of hours in a spare room. At the best of times, my brother's stubborn...and this is far from the best of times."

"Is there any update?"

"They'll only say that time is running thin. If there's no sign of response in the next 48 hours, the chances of a good outcome diminish dramatically."

_I can't do this without you......Don't leave me alone._

Sherlock crossed his arms on the edge of the bed and lay his head on them. He fixated on the steady beep of the machine, Sherlock willed it to continue. The desperate hope of a desperate man.

_You can't do this to me...it's us against the world. John...please._

Mycroft's hand lay gently on his shoulder, and the smell of bad hospital coffee stung his nose. He marshalled his energy to look at his brother, bloodshot eyes struggling to focus on both cup and the man holding it out to him.

"I won't expect you to eat, but at least take this, brother mine. You'll want to be awake when he comes back to us."

_When he comes back....He has to come back..John, come back to me._

Sherlock nodded silently and took the offered solace together with the unspoken sentiment. Whenever he'd looked, Mycroft had been there. Talking to nurses, doctors, anyone who could help. Specialist after specialist had been presented and dispatched. If Sherlock had the energy to spare, he'd have been almost tempted to thank him.

He felt as much as saw his brother exit the room, leaving them alone again.

_Alone.....I couldn't bear it John...Don't leave me alone._

Hour after hour had passed, then day after day. Who'd have thought such a tiny metal slug could cause such destruction.

_To both of us._

Mrs Hudson visited, so did Molly, faceless voices, nameless friends. Offering sympathy, none offering hope.

_I'm hopeless without you John...you always tell me I'm hopeless..come back and tell me again._

John's family arrived in the morning. Useless tears and useless platitudes. But at least none of them tried to move him from his place at the bed, holding John's hand.

_I won't leave you alone John...I promised....I'll never leave you again....Don't leave me._

"You should talk to him Sherlock. Even if it seems foolish, studies show it may help." Mycroft was back again, Lestrade shadowing him at every step.

"Alright...." Sherlock's voice was rusty from lack of use. The dry rasp sounded strange to his own ears, "Can you leave us alone."

He heard the whisper of the glass door open and then close, leaving them in peace.

"John. You won't hear this because the real purpose of talking to the unconscious is as a salve to those doing the talking. But I find myself in need of just the solace this is supposed to provide. So I'll talk, and I'd appreciate it if you could just lay there and pretend to listen."

Sherlock heaved a heavy sigh and continued, "I'd like to apologise for shouting at you when you were shot. To be fair, I was quite angry with you, and you should have dodged, but that's neither here-nor-there now. I regret that the last words you heard before losing consciousness were harsh ones. There...that's that done."

Sherlock paused for several minutes before he looked at the door, ensuring it was closed, "Damn it John, everything I want to say to you seems to be an apology. Surely not every interaction we have had involves something I need to be sorry for."

A sad smile pulled at the corners of Sherlock's mouth, "You'd laugh at that, and probably congratulate me for the deduction. I wish you would. I'd give anything to hear your voice, even if it's just to tell me to clean up an experiment, or shout at me for insulting Donovan."

"We need more time John, We're not finished. There's so much to do, so many cases to solve, so much for you to tell me off about. There's things I need to show you, that I need to tell you. You don't know how important you've become to me. You're not just a conductor of light, John. You are my light. I can't see without you anymore. It's too dark."

The tears were falling freely now, as Sherlock felt precious moments trickling away. "Damn it John, I'm not a man given to sentiment. But here it is, I need you with me John. I'm rubbish at being a proper human being without you. I was never very good to begin with, but now people expect it of me. You did that...you fixed me, and I can't do it alone. I can't be....Sherlock Holmes...without John Watson."

_Please...please...please_

"You're my friend John, my best friend. I don't know quite how that happened, but I don't think I can do it again. I need you to come back John, come back and be my best friend.....I love you."

It was at those last three heartbroken words that John's fingers twitched. Just by the minutest amount, but it was enough...The healing could begin.


End file.
